


Anything You Can Do

by RedLeaderfic



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Episode Tag, Hurt/Comfort, Kayfabe Compliant, M/M, Never Talk About Your Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-10-24 02:18:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17695739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedLeaderfic/pseuds/RedLeaderfic
Summary: After all, who needs actual communication when you can play one upsmanship games on the roadtrip instead?





	Anything You Can Do

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chasesstarlight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasesstarlight/gifts).



> Set very shortly after this video: https://www.reddit.com/r/SquaredCircle/comments/aczfa4/velveteen_dream_an/ and continuing on from there. Happy Chocolate Box day! (Whenever that winds up being!)

Dream had expected – had hoped, really – that the bickering would pick back up once they'd dealt with Ciampa and Gargano but when the bell rang Aleister seemed to make a point of not looking at him during the post match and swept by him up the ramp without a further word.

Dream would not chase after him. The Velveteen Dream did not chase after _anybody_. But all the same he could not abide that level of rudeness and needed to make sure Aleister knew that.

It was not chasing.

When Dream caught up to him Aleister let out a long sigh. Aleister rested one arm on the top of his open locker door, his eyes closed when Dream pointedly leaned against the wall of lockers so that he would be between Aleister and the exit. “Why did you do that?” Aleister finally said when he accepted the Dream wasn't going to budge. “During the match.”

Dream didn’t know what he resented more, the way Aleister carried on like talking to him was a trial or that he’d been able to knock Dream off balance so effortlessly. He was supposed to be the one demanding answers, not Aleister. “What’s wrong, Black?” he said, drawing the words out, turning them into a taunt. “Afraid of a little competition?”

“I hadn’t thought we were still competing.”

Dream could never come up with the right comeback when it came to Aleister. He let Aleister walk past him, ignoring the twinge in his chest at how _tired_ Aleister had sounded.

To Dream’s surprise Aleister paused at the end of the hallway. “And if we were competing, _I_ don’t need my hands to do that moonsault.”

Dream was so dumbfounded the fury didn’t hit him until Aleister was long out of sight. He laughed to himself as leaned against the lockers, his arms crossed over his chest and already plotting his comeback. “Okay. Okay, I see how this tour is going to be.” He could let Aleister have this little win, telling himself that getting Aleister to play at all was more than enough victory for one night.

***

Dream felt all the wind go out of Cole when he landed the Driver and smiled; the whole match had been an aggravating mess, he and Aleister having to swat Strong and O’Reilly out of the ring what seemed like every time they turned around, but those two had finally gotten themselves banished and Fish was out cold outside on the floor so they _had_ this.

So Dream was startled when Aleister reached over the ropes to tag himself in.

Dream reluctantly handed Cole over to Aleister and lounged in the corner, waiting to see what he planned to do. Aleister put Cole up on his shoulders, glancing once over at Dream and if he'd thought Aleister Black were capable of the expression Dream would have sworn that was a smirk on his face. “Oh no you _don’t_ ,” Dream said but he _did_ ; before Dream could do anything but bristle up in outrage Aleister launched into his own version of the Driver, fluid and beautiful, capping it off with a standing moonsault seemingly just to add some insult to the injury.

Aleister stared right at Dream as he hooked the leg for the pin, almost like he was daring Dream to break it up. And Dream almost did, because how _dare_ he?

Dream managed to make it just past the curtain before he cracked and spun Aleister around, pointing one finger in his impassive face. “That is my move. You don’t do my move.”

“Is it?” Aleister said, as if he hadn’t realized. 

“Why did you do that, anyway? I had that pin.”

“He would have kicked out.”

“Oh, that man was dead and we both know it,” Dream said, stepping around him. 

“You’re the one who wanted to compete.”

Dream spun back around. “Yes, compete, not you show me up.”

“I wasn’t aware you were the one to dictate the terms.” 

Dream waved him away and stalked off toward the showers. He made sure to take long enough that Aleister would get fed up waiting and leave without him – they were doing the tag team thing and splitting the hotel room, an arrangement Dream was sorely regretting, but they’d come in different cars so it wasn’t like Aleister would have much reason to wait very long anyway. By the time he was ready the backstage was deserted, exactly what Dream had been hoping for. (And if he did feel some disappointment that Aleister hadn’t waited after all, well, he just wasn’t going to pay much attention to that.)

Despite the lateness of the hour there were still a few fans stagedooring and Dream allowed himself to be flagged down by a little boy who ran all the way across the parking lot screaming “Dream! Dream! Dream!” as his apologetic parent trailed after him. “What can the Dream do for you, little man?” he said, pretending he didn’t see the program the kid was wildly waving around.

“Can I have an autograph, please?”

“I suppose I can give away one for free just this once.”

“That double team move at the end of the match was really, really cool!”

That pulled Dream up a little short. He’d assumed it had been obvious what Aleister had been doing. “Was it now?”

“Uh huh! Do you and Aleister have a name for it?”

“Still working on it. Has to be perfect, after all.” The kid ran away happy and Dream watched after him, his arms crossed over his chest. 

He guessed he grudgingly had to agree it had looked pretty cool.

***  
Dream tried to be quiet when he got back to the hotel but it didn't help; as soon as he closed the door behind him Aleister commented "You're back late" and Dream almost jumped out of his skin.

Dream shook his head, turning on the lamp; Aleister was stretched out in bed on his back with his eyes closed, his hands folded over his chest like he’d been laid out for burial. Dream could only aspire to being this devoted to his brand. “Don’t you sleep?”

“Occasionally.”

“Yeah well, a few more days you’ll be home and you can go back to sleeping hanging from the ceiling like a bat the way you’re used to.” Dream stretched out on his own bed, his hands behind his head. 

“Why did you ask to team with me?” Dream startled, glancing over at Aleister who just continued to lay there with his eyes closed. “I know you requested this.”

Dream ran his tongue over his lips, his mouth suddenly very dry because there were a lot of answers to that question. _I wanted to get in the ring with you again_ was definitely one. _I knew you’d be up against Gargano and Ciampa some nights this loop and look how well that worked out last time_ was also one, and in some ways a slightly truer one. Dream worked through a whole list of reasons that would both be genuine and that he would also set himself on fire before speaking aloud. “You know how it is,” he finally said with carefully casual shrug. “Common enemies, strange bedfellows.” Aleister had no response and Dream suffered through that for as long as he could manage. “Why the hell did you agree then?”

To his surprise Aleister looked thoughtful at that. “Nikki Cross told me something, just before her call up. I wasn’t sure if I believed it.”

Dream shook his head at all of that coming around again. “If she said I did anything that night she’s lying.”

“Then why is your conscience guilty?”

Dream bit his lip until he tasted blood because Aleister wasn’t _wrong_ exactly. It was just that his conscience ached because he _hadn’t_ done anything that night, not for anything he had. “Go to sleep, Black. We have another match tomorrow.”

“You were the one back late,” Aleister said, sounding a little hazy already.

“What, were you waiting on the Dream?” Aleister didn’t answer and Dream leaned up on one elbow. “Wait, were you?” 

But if Aleister wasn’t asleep he was doing credible impression of it and Dream settled back, deciding not to push things just this once.

***

Adam Cole was having a bad couple of nights. Aleister hoisted him up on his shoulders, giving Dream a look again before going into the Driver again but this time Dream had a plan. When Aleister planted Cole Dream lunged over the rope and just managed to tag himself back in, waving Aleister to get up. He dragged Cole up by his hair and planted him in the Driver again, then kipped up back to his feet and measured himself for that second rope moonsault, making _very sure_ not to use his hands this time. He wobbled for an instant but kept his balance, flashing a smile to Cole’s angry cohorts on the outside before flipping over onto their fallen leader. Easy pin.

Or it would have been if Strong and O’Reilly didn’t drag him outside of the ring. Maybe he’d laid it on a little strong. 

He'd felt something tap his leg but it wasn’t until he’d fought the two of them off and looked up to see Aleister with the toe of his boot hooked under Cole’s chin that he realized that had been Aleister tagging himself back in. He knew he should be angry at being shown up again but the simple truth was that there was nothing he could do that topped a Black Mass. He grabbed Fish before he could break up the pin and let Aleister have the moment.

They were working this arena again the next night so the crew was able to keep the ring up and fuck off early. Back at the PC Dream like to linger in the ring for a while after everyone left, a luxury he rarely had on the road; he climbed in carefully, mindful of his dress shoes on the canvas. He stood in the middle and closed his eyes, trying to remember each step Aleister did to set up the Black Mass, the same way he would try to master a suplex. Plant the right foot, shift your weight. Snap the other leg around, pick a focus to keep your balance. Dream stumbled backward after the kick, shaking his head as he slumped in the corner. No matter how much he practiced it the move never felt right. Dream could accept there were moves he couldn’t do, Ricochet had an assortment Dream knew would break his neck if he tried them but he should be able to _do this_. Maybe his legs were too short. He was a little bit taller than Aleister but Aleister had those nice long legs, maybe that was it.

“Are you coming?”

Dream felt his heart almost stop when he looked down and saw Aleister standing down there at ringside. “When I’m ready. Why, are you waiting?”

“We came in the same car this time,” Aleister said, with the patient, passive aggressive tone of someone stating the obvious. 

“Right. Right, I forgot.” Dream scanned Aleister’s face to figure out if he had seen him attempt the Black Mass, wondering if would have to…he didn’t know, fake his own death and start over he supposed, but Aleister just looked mildly annoyed at having to wait and Dream told himself to calm down. “Sure, the Dream supposes we can leave.”

***

It was Gargano and Ciampa again the next night. The match was over, Aleister had caught Tommaso with a quick and cheap roll up and Tommaso was _hot_ over it. 

Or at least that was what Dream thought at first. 

Dream had gotten walloped to the outside just after the pin and could barely keep his legs under him; Ciampa was also on the outside clutching his precious title, jawing with Aleister who was still in the ring. He’d lost sight of Gargano during the chaos but spotted him slinking back into the ring. It took a few groggy seconds for Dream to realize what was happening: for once Ciampa wasn’t just running his mouth, he was keeping Aleister occupied so Gargano could get into position behind him.

He tried to call out to Aleister but he was still too winded; he pulled himself back into the ring on his second try, his shaky legs almost buckling under him during the attempt. Gargano took no mind of him, sizing Aleister up, and for an instant Dream wasn’t in a ring. It was the Full Sail parking lot all over again, Aleister distracted and with his back turned as Johnny Gargano crept up behind him. Dream had tried to imagine how that assault had gone down so many times, running through scenario after scenario but no. No, this was exactly how that dark, muggy night had gone, right down to same feral madness in Gargano’s eyes as he beckoned Aleister to take one more step toward him. 

Dream knew he didn’t have a prayer of reaching Johnny in time. It all happened in an instant – Ciampa making eye contact with Gargano over Aleister’s shoulder, Aleister taking that step back toward the center of the ring as Tommaso seemed to cede the argument.

The last time Gargano had gotten the drop on him like this Aleister had been gone for months. 

Johnny wound up into the kick and Dream felt a blessed surge of adrenaline; with everything he had left he lauched himself right at Aleister and shoved him hard. He felt a quick, stabbing starburst of pain explode in his head as Johnny’s heel connected with his temple and all the lights went out before he even hit the canvas.

***

Dream wasn’t sure how much time passed before he came back to. He was flat on his back and still in the ring, which was a fairly good sign as things went. Someone was talking to him but he couldn’t make out the words, and there was a hand warm against the side of his face. He blinked his eyes open and flinched away from the from the overheads; whoever it was leaned further over him to block the light and this time he made out Aleister’s voice. “Dream. Dream, wake up. Say something.”

“The Dream always likes the way you say his name,” he murmured. 

Aleister let out a sigh that was simultaneously relieved and exasperated. He let his eyes drift close again, enjoying how Aleister’s thumb stroked along his jaw. “Keep your eyes open.”

Dream nodded, remembering suddenly where he was. “Get me up. Get me up, get me up.”

Aleister hesitated for an instant but grabbed Dream’s hand and hauled him to his feet; the crowd burst into applause and Dream wondered if he’d been down longer than he realized. He was able to drape himself over the top rope before his legs buckled; he ran through the match and didn’t find any memory gaps, everything right up to and including that look in Johnny Gargano’s eyes was crystal clear. So that was a good sign at least. 

Aleister’s hand was still on the back of his neck and Dream really liked the way it felt there. He let Aleister lead him out of the ring, even managing to do his pose for the crowd once without falling over. “I don’t want to see Medical,” he muttered and Aleister obligingly steered him away from the main backstage area, down to a quiet area where there were no people and blessedly little noise. He closed his eyes for a second as Aleister sat him down and methodically started feeling up and down his neck, like he was checking for swelling. Dream wondered what that kick had looked like if Aleister was carrying on like Gargano might have actually almost kicked his head off. “I’m okay.”

“Why did you _do_ that?” Aleister said. “The match was over.”

Dream shook his head, immediately regretting it when the room started spinning. “He was going to do it again,” he said, the words tumbling out. “Just like at Full Sail. It was going to be that night all over.” He felt the sick worry from that awful night come back, how long he’d spent trying to will Aleister to move. “I knew he'd try it. No one will ever forget what he did as long as you’re walking around, he needs you gone. I knew he would try it but at least I would _be there_ this time.”

“Enough.”

“You’re no good at watching your own back, you’re not. I was gonna make damn sure....”

Aleister put one finger across his lips before he could ramble on any more. “Enough.” He sighed. “Do you really need to top _everything_ I do?”

Dream blinked for a few seconds. “Black, was that a joke?”

“No.”

“It was. You tried to make a joke.” Aleister firmly sat him back down when he tried to get up. “I’m all right. I am.” 

“We’ll see.”

“You gonna keep an eye on me?” he said, happy he was able to make his tone flirty. Dream thought he was starting to be able to tell when Aleister’s long suffering sighs were real. He stayed quiet for a few moments, enjoying how Aleister’s hand felt on the side of his neck. “What did Nikki Cross say to you?” he said, too tired and hurting to keep that curiosity at bay for another night.

Aleister ran his tongue over his lips and it was so rare to see a nervous tell from him. “I watched the security footage so I wouldn’t be beholden to her anymore.” He paused again and Dream marveled at how hard this seemed to be for him. “When I told her I’d done so I thanked her for being the only one who’d cared, even if in her way,” he said, his voice getting soft. Another pause. “She told me that I had missed something.”

Dream felt a hot flush creep up over his cheeks. He forced himself to look at Aleister in the eye; he was crouching back on his heels in front of Dream, like he was waiting for a response, and Dream felt his breath catch in his throat. Well, if ever there was a no or never situation, this was definitely it. He leaned forward and kissed Aleister, feeling Aleister nod once before kissing back, like this was the confirmation he’d been waiting for. Maybe hoping for. Dream really, really wanted it to be hoping for. Dream broke off the kiss and sagged against him, his forehead against Aleister’s. “You scared the life out of me that night,” he said, just to complete the confession.

“You might have brought this up earlier.”

“Maybe. Probably.” Dream sighed. “We made a good team this loop, didn’t we.”

“We did.”

“Will you…will you teach me the Black Mass? I keep working on but it’s not....” Dream shook his head. “It’s not right.”

Aleister let out a surprised, slightly amused huff of breath. “You don’t have to be able to do everything I can do.”

Dream blinked. “But I want to.”

Aleister sighed again, stroking his thumb over Dream’s cheekbone. “We can work on it.” He paused, then with a tone that Dream would have said was mischievious from anyone else said, “You’re planting your foot too soon before you start the rotation.”

Dream groaned and Aleister kissed him, very lightly like it was an apology. “Met a kid who said we should name that Driver bit we’ve been doing,” Dream said, desperate to change the subject.

“Perhaps we should.”

If this wasn’t all a wonderful concussion dream he was going to thank Johnny Gargano. Well no, he wouldn't, he still despised the man but at least there was some upside to him being such a miserable human being. “I’m a better kisser.”

Aleister shook his head, then after a split-second’s hesitation that Dream flattered himself might be nerves kissed him again, a deep, slow one this time. Dream felt lightheaded when Aleister let him up for air, Aleister cradling his head. “No,” he said, that look in his eye again. “But if you like we can work on that too.”

Dream smiled. Everyone always complimented him on what a hard worker he was. “Deal.”


End file.
